


Pointing Fingers

by mythireandfire



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Comfort/Angst, F/M, Gen, I don't even know how to tag this I haven't done this in years so here you go, Laheir Lavellan
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-07
Updated: 2015-06-07
Packaged: 2018-04-03 06:11:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,714
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4089976
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mythireandfire/pseuds/mythireandfire
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After witnessing an argument involving the Herald, Cullen gains some insight into the mind of Lavellan.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pointing Fingers

_“You’re just like all the rest, knife-ear! It’s a disgrace that you are called The Herald!”_

Cullen heard the scream over the clash of swords and shields from the recruits training. Frowning, he left the recruits in Rylan’s hands and went to find what the noise had been about.

As he walked up the steps to Haven proper, he saw a crowd gathered around Varric’s tent. Angry murmurs buzzed through the throng of onlookers, but they blocked whatever was causing the ruckus. Cullen forced his way through and was met with the sight of a disheveled young man stabbing his finger at Laheir Lavellan.

 _Maker’s breath._ Cullen thought with some anger. Outbursts over the Herald being Dalish had been rare, but not unheard of—they were usually subtler about it too. He started to step forward to intervene when the Herald saw him and gave a gesture with her hand to stay back. He paused, and decided to see what she would do.

“Is it?” Lavellan asked calmly. Her face expressionless, she locked her pale eyes onto that of the boy’s. Cullen was suddenly glad he was not on the receiving end of that look.

“Yes!” The boy shouted, his voice raw, “Every single one of your kind has brought nothing but death for me and mine! It’s a disgrace to the Maker for an elf to be called the Herald of Andraste! You’ll betray us the first chance you’ll get, I know it! You knife-ears always do!” The boy took a step forward, then stumbled and fell to his knees with a soft sob.

The crowd held their breath as Laheir knelt by the boy. The young man refused to look at her, and she didn’t try to make him. She tilted her head and asked, almost tenderly, “and what have my kind done to you, boy?”

At the unexpected softness in her voice, tears began to streak down the lad’s face. “My parents,” he whispered, Cullen barely making out the words, “my little sister. A band of knife...of elves, came while I was out hunting and slaughtered them, took everything we had. I saw them leaving, laughing as they walked away drinking our wine. I couldn’t—couldn’t do anything. Anything at all.”

Lavellan closed her eyes and let the boy’s tears settle before speaking. “When I was of your age, I was hunting in the woods of the Free Marches with a few of my clan members. For hours we hunted and nothing was amiss, until we stumbled across the butchered carcasses of halla.” The Herald’s eyes slid open. “Do you know what the halla are to us Dalish?”

“Why are you telling me this?” The lad asked angrily instead of answering her.

Lavellan spoke on and ignored his anger. “The halla are precious to us. They pull our aravels and carry our burdens. They are so much more than that of other mounts or pack animals. We hold them in reverence, as dear companions. So you can imagine our horror at the sight. We thought ‘Who did this? Who would dare?’ Being of the Dalish, our thoughts went naturally to humans. It is always the shems, after all, who cause us grief. It seems fitting that they would be behind the slaughter of our sacred beasts.” She spoke without inflection, but the boy flushed red as if he had been slapped.

“So we tracked the villains down. They were very easy to follow—left a trail any fool could trace. Imagine our surprise when we don’t find humans, but fellow elves dining upon the meat they took. They turned out to be elves who had fled from an alienage and turned to banditry. They tried to kill us on sight but we managed to quell them. All but one died.”

Cullen watched as Lavellan turned her gaze to the ground and tapped a finger on her knee in silence.

“My point of the story, boy, is that there are good elves and bad elves. The same can be said of humans—of any race. You can point your finger at me, you can blame me for every elf’s trespass, but if that was the case, would I not have the same right to return the favor? To accuse you of every wrong humans have inflicted upon elves? Would I not be justified considering the atrocities?”

The lad’s eyes widened as Lavellan reached forward and placed a hand over his heart. “In every person lies the capability to do evil. But there is also the will and strength to stay the hand that causes these acts. What is your name, boy?”

“Bartend,” Cullen heard him whisper.

“Why did you join the Inquisition? Did you join just to accuse me for being an elf?”

“No,” Bartend shook his head, fresh tears rolling down his cheeks. “I wanted to help people. People who had lost loved ones, like myself. I didn’t know you were an elf until I came to Haven.”

Laheir nodded in approval and stood, helping Bartend to his feet. “That is what I’m here for as well, Bartend. I don’t know if I’m truly chosen by your Maker, or if I was saved by Andraste, but no matter what I feel, it is my duty to help these people, to close The Breach. Now go. Speak to Quartermaster Threnn, or Knight-Captain Rylen about joining the recruits. You have heart and strength, Bartend. Don’t let petty misconceptions and grief control you. Have the strength to stay your hand.”

Bartend squared his shoulders, though his chin trembled slightly. “Yes, Herald.” The boy started to walk away but stopped and said in halting sentences, “I…I’m sorry. For what I said. And thank you.” His face turning red, the boy descended the steps quickly and made his way to the gates.

With the conflict over, the crowd dispersed with furtive glances at Laheir as they walked away. Cullen let out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding.

“Well, that was dicey.” Cullen didn’t notice Varric until he spoke. He realized the dwarf was setting his odd crossbow on the ground, as if he’d had it out and ready to use. “One wrong word and we’d be cleaning up bodies right now.”

“Indeed.” Cullen murmured in agreement, than towards Lavellan, “Well done, Herald.”

He froze when Laheir’s eyes met his and he saw a cold fury behind them. Cullen blinked once and the Herald’s eyes were unreadable, the rage gone like smoke in a breeze. Before he could recover she turned without a word and glided out through Haven’s gates. He would have followed but Varric put a staying hand on his arm.

“Easy, Curly. Let her sort it out before you go talk to her.”

Cullen swallowed the retort he had for the dwarf. “You don’t think she’d go after the boy?” He said instead.

“Her? No,” Varric chuckled. “I imagine that the scene rattled her more than she let on and she just wants some alone time. Let her have it.” It was the sympathy in his voice that convinced Cullen to take his advice. He shook his head once and went back to the camps to help organize the troops.

-o-O-o-

It was twilight when Cullen finally went after the Herald.

All afternoon he had kept an eye out for her. When Laheir wasn’t out in the wilds of Thedas, she flitted about Haven helping wherever she could. She spent most of her time with Leliana, putting her elven contacts to use, but she spent some time in the recruitment camps as well, helping train soldiers in dueling.

So as the hours went by and there was no sign of her, and after he had asked Leliana of Laheir’s whereabouts, Cullen found himself trudging through the snow outside of Haven in search of the Herald.

He could have let her be and let the Herald return on her own, but the thought of her alone after the event of the evening didn’t sit well with him. It made him uneasy.

And that uneasiness irritated him because of its newness. A few months ago he never felt anything towards Laheir, but recently… Cullen shook his head. He should be back in the Chantry taking care of the pile of reports on his desk, but the nagging sensation wouldn’t leave him be so he marched on.

He contemplated going a different route when, with a sharp yelp, he fell waist deep into a snow drift. Cursing, he tried to extract himself but only managed to plow deeper into the snow.

“Having trouble, Commander?”

Cullen’s head snapped up—and he was met with the sight of Laheir perched in a tree, one leg propped up while the other dangled. Her face was her usually mask, but her eyes danced with amusement. He felt a blush creeping up his neck.

“I…well that is…” Frustrated at himself, he said shortly, “Did you plan this?”

Laheir’s eyebrows rose. “The snow drift? Why, I believe that ability lies with your Maker, Commander. I have no power over the snow and where it lands.” She stood on the branch and then gracefully made her way down the tree. “Now,” she let out a soft huff as she landed gently in the snow, only sinking to her ankles, “if I happened to have chosen this place because I knew the drifts were deep and could hamper anyone after me, then maybe, just maybe I had a hand in your current predicament.”

And then she gave him a small smile that softened the sharp angles of her face and made his heart hammer in his chest. It was rare that Laheir ever smiled, or joked as she did now.

“Well,” he cleared his throat and tried to ignore the thrumming in his chest, “what of your elven gods? Surely one of them could manipulate the weather?”

“I did pray to June recently,” Laheir said reflectively, and then laughed softly as he scowled at her. “June is the elven god of craft, Commander. We have no god who holds sway over the weather.” She tilted her head in thought. “None that we remember anyway.”

“That’s a shame,” Cullen said dryly. “If you did I would say that you ask him to hold off on any more snow. At least until I managed to free myself.”

She grinned again and glided through the snow to him, kneeling down beside him. “I’m surprised you wouldn’t just pray to your Maker. In any case I’m afraid you will have to settle with my help instead of a god’s.”

“I think I could live with that.”

“Good.”

And help him she did. Once out of the snow, Cullen let Laheir lead the way, trusting her to avoid the snow drifts he could sink down in. In hindsight, he probably should have removed his armor before venturing out.

“Did someone send you? Is there yet another noble that Josephine needs me to placate or shake hands with?”

Startled out of his thoughts, Cullen looked up to see Laheir watching him with that unreadable mask she constantly wore. The walls that were down moments ago were back and Cullen felt a moment of loss. Irrationally, he wanted to feel that closeness again, if only for a moment. It was wrong to do so—they were still new to this tentative friendship they had and there were still some hurdles to cross. But still….

“No,” he finally said, rubbing the back of his neck. “I…noticed your absence since the incident with that young man. I wanted…” he felt his face flush. “I wanted to see if you were all right.”

Cullen saw surprise flash across her face before she turned away to hide her expression. Cullen thought he had overstepped his bounds and was about to apologize when Laheir spoke.

“Thank you,” she murmured. “I’m not used to…people worrying over me. I’m still getting used to it.” She turned and lifted her light green eyes up to his. “I was…” Her brows furrowed in frustration and she clenched her hands. “The boy upset me slightly but I am fine now.” Her tone and expression negated her words.

“You were angry at him,” Cullen said softly. He remembered the flash of rage in her eyes before she walked away.

“No. No, not at him,” Laheir said quickly, slashing the air with her hand. “I was angry because of the boy’s misfortune. And how it makes it that much harder for elves and humans to live in peace. We’ll get along for a while, but then some human noble executes their elven servants, or elven bandits kill a boy’s family, and the whole cycle of, ‘You wronged us and we’ll never forgive you’ cycle starts once again. The Dalish cannot let go of their hate of what the humans did so long ago—and the humans will not let them forget it with their prejudices.”

“You sound as if you’ve given this some thought.” _There is passion under your façade,_ Cullen thought.

“It is always on my mind,” she said fervently, and then she gave a bitter laugh. “You can imagine how that viewpoint might be perceived among my fellow Dalish. ‘Stop hating humans!?’” Her soft voice rose into a mocking pitch. “’Live together in harmony!?’ It was not a popular one.” She raked a hand through her short hair, agitated.

Cullen watched as Laheir let out a long sigh and lifted her head to the sky, facing the Breach. “I love my people,” she said tiredly, “but we are fading away. We cling to rituals and tales of a time gone by, searching for the knowledge and relics of a lost age. I understand the need to keep it alive. I too want to know of elvhen’s past. Of the days of Arlathan.” And Cullen heard it in her voice—the craving for a culture dead and gone, where the elves were more than they are now.

“But the past is the past. We must pick ourselves up and learn from those before us.” Laheir faced Cullen, her pale eyes glinting like a cat’s in the last of the sun’s rays. “I fear for my people. I fear that the hate they keep will swallow them whole. But I have come to realize that it is not something I can change.”

Silence filled the clearing. Laheir looked disconcerted after her unexpected confession. Cullen fought off the urge to step closer to her, to comfort her, and instead waited for her to break the quiet.

Laheir shrugged her shoulders and looked back towards Haven. “Not something I can change _yet_. If the Inquisition becomes enough of an influential force…Cullen, I would like to use it to help the Dalish.”

“And I will support you when that time comes, Herald.” Cullen promised. “I give you my word.”

And he would. The gaze she directed at him was heartfelt, and Cullen was startled to find tenderness in the look. He felt his chest constrict and he had to take a very deep breath to steady himself.

During the months at Haven after the disaster at The Temple of Sacred Ashes, he and the Herald had gone from advisory acquaintances to cautious friends. He felt a warmth towards the woman that he had not felt for anyone in a very long time and it…disquieted him.

“Laheir.”

Cullen blinked. “I’m sorry?”

“Call me Laheir, Cullen.” Then she gave him that soft smile. “And thank you.”

“Yes, well, you might want to wait on that thank you,” he said dryly. “For all you know Cassandra will stonewall me just because she can.”

Laheir laughed freely, and Cullen realized her walls had disappeared sometime while she had been talking. Her sharp mask was gone and in its place were shining eyes and secret grins.

“Cassandra would never be that petty, and you know it.”

“True. She’d probably offer to lead the crusade herself.”

“So it is a crusade now?”

“It might as well be. You intend to change a lot of minds, don’t you?”

“Be as that may…”

They continued to banter back and forth as they made their way back to Haven, and the sun lazily slid behind the mountains.

**Author's Note:**

> This was a drabble I did for noodlerutherford on tumblr when we were exchanging info on our Inquisitors, and just decided to post it here. And considering it's been like three years since I've been on here I apologize for my past works. *shudders*


End file.
